This blog is a personal take on Listowel, Co. Kerry. I am writing for anyone anywhere with a Listowel connection but especially for sons and daughters of Listowel who find themselves far from home. Contact me at listowelconnection@gmail.com
I have looked at the statue of John B. In Main Street, Listowel many times over the years. I marvel at the skill of the sculptor in portraying John as he will always be, in my mind’s eye; his arms waving in a joyous welcome to Listowel and a delighted smile on his face at meeting you.
In his youth John was a Greek scholar in St Michael’s College, Listowel, so I think it appropriate to show here a conversation between Socrates and the Athenian sculptor, Crito; written by Xenophon, a student of Socrates and a name very familiar to any Greek scholar.
“Socrates, in conversation with the statuary Clito, showeth his skill and good taste in the Finer Arts.
Talking with Clito, the sculptor, Socrates said to him, “I wonder not that you make so great a difference between the statue of a man who is running a race and that of one who stands his ground to wait for his antagonist with whom he is to wrestle, or to box, or to play a prize at all sorts of defence; but what ravishes the beholders is, that your statues seem to be alive. I would fain know by what art you imprint upon them this wonderful vivacity?” Clito, surprised at this question, stood considering what to answer, when Socrates went on: –“Perhaps you take great care to make them resemble the living persons, and this is the reason that they seem to live likewise.” “It is so,” said Clito. “You must then,” replied Socrates, “observe very exactly in the different postures of the body what are the natural dispositions of all the parts, for when some of them stoop down, the others raise themselves up; when some are contracted, the others stretch themselves out; when some are stiff with straining, others relax themselves; and when you imitate all this, you make your statues approach very near life.” “You say true,” said Clito. “is it not true likewise,” replied Socrates, “that it is a great satisfaction to beholders to see all the passions of a man who is in action well expressed? Thus, in the statue of a gladiator who is fighting, you must imitate the sternness of look with which he threatens his enemy; on the contrary, you must give him, when victor, a look of gaiety and content.” “There is no doubt of what you say.” “We may then conclude,” said Socrates, “that it is the part of an excellent statuary to express the various affections and passions of the soul, by representing such-and-such motions and postures of the body as are commonly exerted in real life whenever the mind is so-and-so affected.”
The Memorable Thoughts of Socrates, Xenophon 431 BC -350? BC”
Appropriate prior thoughts for the Sculptor of our Greek scholar.
For those of us who knew John B. in real life it would be an enjoyable exercise for us to reflect on Socrates words; standing in front of the statue in Main St Listowel.
Thanks
Billy McSweeney
My recent visitors at the statue in question
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A Fact
You are 14% more likely to die on your birthday than on any other day.
December 2 2023 4.oop.m. saw me in The Square for the market and turning on of the Christmas lights. Stalls were just setting up and people were very slowly gathering. It was very very cold.
That is my excuse for not bringing you the photos I had hoped for. I didn’t wait around but looking at reports on Facebook everyone had a great time.
These lovely girls were among the early arrivals.
One of the first, and most important stalls to set up was the soup, mulled cider and sandwiches crew who joined Elaine in raising funds for Kerry Hospice.
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The Black Valley
A lovely man called Dan Doyle allowed me to join his Facebook group where he reminisces about growing up in The Black Valley. He has given me permission to share stuff.
This lovely man is Dan’s dad. Here is what he wrote;
Tom Doyle my dad on a road in Beaufort , Kerry Ireland, somewhere beneath the mountains around the Gap Of Dunloe almost 100 years ago ,we just recently got this only photo of the man himself. someone read our stories here ,God Bless us ,Great to see you big man after all these years.
Once in awhile we take my dad and introduce him to The Black Valley crowd. He would shake his head if he knew anybody even read anything i wrote. He never went to school. He couldnt read or write. He was a gifted man with a mind for helping people, one of the strongest men i ever knew. He sat under a tree in the mountains as my mom read to him ,so his eyes were closed and she read and they were a sight to see, so here is Tom Doyle my dad around 100 or 110 years ago somewhere in the mountains of Kerry.
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Coolahan’s Santy
Photo: Tarbert on Facebook
This somewhat scary effigy of St. Nicholas has graced Coolahan’s window in Tarbert for 100 years. Local children knew that once he took up his position, the real Santa would soon be on his way.Great to see that he is still standing, even if he is a bit the worst for wear.
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A Request
Does anyone know where one could get a copy of the book by Joe Quaid of Athea called Hook Line and Sinker?
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John O’Connell’s Remembers Childhood Christmases
At Christmas 2020 in the midst of Covid people here encouraged others to recall happy childhood Christmases.
Noreen Neville O’Connell shared these memories which she recorded from her husband of more than 50 years’ trip down memory lane.
“In our house in Curraghatoosane ( Bothairín Dubh), Christmas preparations started with white washing. Lime was mixed with water and a little bluestone added and this was painted on with a wide brush or sometimes the sweeping brush. Red berried holly was picked up in the Hickeys and a few red or white candles were stuck in a turnip or a 2 pound jam crock filled with sand and decorated with a piece of red crepe paper if we had it. The crib was set up on the wide window sill and decorated with holly or laurel.
On Christmas Eve I went off shopping with my mother in our ass and cart. My job was to hold the ass as mother leisurely shopped, in all the shops, where she left her loyal custom throughout the year. Here she got a “Christmas box” as a present. This was usually a fruit cake wrapped in festive parchment with a lovely little shiny garland around it or a small box of biscuits. There was no rush on mam, or no great worry about poor me in my short pants, patiently awaiting by his docile ass. Throughout the long shopping trek, I got a bottle of Nash’s red lemonade and a few thick ha’penny biscuits. It was up Church street to Barretts shop and bar, Lena Mullalys, O Grady’s Arch store, , to Guerins in Market street, John Joe Kennys in the Square and many more smaller shops in town, for flour and meal, tea and sugar, jam, biscuits, jelly, a cut of beef, lemonade, and lots of stout and a bottle or two of sherry.
Eventually with our cart laden with the provisions and the bottles rattling away in long wooden boxes ( which would be returned with the empties after Christmas), we set off home. Poor Neddy and me, tired and cold but mother content and fulfilled and warmed by perhaps the drop of sherry or perhaps a little hot toddy she might have shared in a Snug with a friend she met on her shopping expedition!! The last stop was at Jack Thornton’s for a few black jacks, and slab toffee which revived my drooping spirits.
As we travelled home the homes were ablaze with lighted candles . It was a sight to behold, which I can still see as plain today as it was 70 years ago. There was very little traffic back then but I lit the way home with the torchlight for mam, me and Neddy . The “ Flight to Curraghatoosane”!
Next it was to untackle and feed and water our gentle, compliant ass, unload the messages and join my father and 3 brothers for a welcome bite. I was the 2nd eldest of four boys and felt high and mighty to be chosen to chaperone my mother. “Mother,s pet” says Noreen!!
Next morning we were awake at cock crow to open our purties. (These were sometimes hidden in the meal bin and one year we were informed of this by an older neighbouring boyo and when the coast was clear one day, we searched and found the hidden cache.We were smart enough to remain silent so nobody spilled the beans. ) We walked, fasting, down to 7 a.m Convent Mass. Then home to play with and maybe dismantle a purty to investigate its workings. The stuffed goose was roasting in the bastible. What a glorious smell . I loved the delightful brown gravy, carrots, turnips and pandy, all from our own garden. As well as supplying milk in town, we had a fine market garden and so we had plenty of fresh vegetables. The trifle dessert was such a treat.
Next day –St Stephens day was gambling day in our house, when the neighbours congregated to play 110 which could last for days, even into weeks. Plenty porter was gratefully accepted and savoured as well as tea and cake. As I got older St Stephen’s day was the day for the wran (wren). We started getting ready early in the day and it was the day that the fancy cake garland that came around the “Christmas box” cakes, were recycled and transformed into part of the” wran “head dress. We had a fantastic wrenboy group, known as the Dirrha wrenboys, captained by the well -known Sonny Canavan. A wren dance followed in a few weeks, hosted often in our home and was the event of the year with music, song and dance and 2 half tierces, and attended by locals and visitors and denounced from the pulpit by the parish priest, if he came to hear of it.”
Catherine Nolan Lyons’ photo of Dirha West wren boys on Charles Street in 1959.
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Looking for Somewhere to Go Tonight ?
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Courtesy and Politeness
Billy McSweeney found this gem in an old schoolbook
Care should be taken to cultivate gentle and obliging manners in all intercourse with friends. It is a common error to suppose that familiar intimacy supersedes attention to the lesser duties of behaviour; and that it may excuse a careless, or even a rough demeanour under the notion of freedom. On the contrary, an intimate connexion can only be perpetuated by a constant endeavour to be pleasing and agreeable. The same behaviour which procures friendship, is absolutely necessary to the preservation of it.
Let no harshness, no appearance of neglect, no supercilious affectation of superiority, be encouraged in the intercourse of friends. A tart reply, a proneness to rebuke, a captious and contradictory spirit, are often known to embitter domestic life, and, to set friends at variance; it is only by continuing courtesy, and urbanity of behaviour, that we long preserve the comforts of friendship.
You must often have observed that nothing is so strong a recommendation as politeness, even on a slight acquaintance; nor does it lose its value by time or intimacy, when preserved, as it ought to be, in the nearest connexions and strictest friendships.
In general, propriety of behaviour must be the fruit of instruction, of observation, and of reasoning; and it is to be cultivated and improved like any other branch of knowledge or virtue. Particular modes and ceremonies of behaviour vary in different places. These can only be learned by observation on the manner of those who are best skilled in them. But the principles of politeness are the same in all places. Wherever there are human beings, it must be impolite to hurt the temper or pain the feelings of those you converse with. By raising people up, instead of mortifying and depressing them, we make ourselves so many friends, in place of enemies.
I put the caption, Success story with a Listowel Connection, on it. Then I got this email…
Hi Mary,
I saw the photo of the Irish team for the Chemistry Olympiad in Zurich in yesterday’s blog.
It is a pleasant thing to see the young people being acknowledged and all congratulations to Richard Sheahan, Nora Sheahan’s grandson, on the bronze medal. I believe this is the first time that Ireland figured in the awards.
I would bring it to your attention that the young girl standing beside Richard in the photo is Isobel McSweeney, my brother Ted’s Grandaughter. She also received ‘An Honourable Mention’ in the awards and is delighted with herself. That’s two awards for Listowel. Isobel lives in Bray, Co Wicklow, with her parents Donal and Rachael.
No coincidence.
Kind Regards
Billy McSweeney
Almost unbelievably (or maybe not!) this successful Irish international team has two members with a Listowel Connection.
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Another Square Story
I was looking back to find a photo of Billy McSweeney and I came across one of his great stories in an old blog post.
Billy with his old friend and neighbour, Pierce Walsh in John R’s a few years ago.
And here’s the story….
When I was a boy it was normal for the children of the town to wander throughout not only the countryside but also the town. I was an inveterate wanderer. Listowel was a very safe place to grow up – safe that is from everything but climbing and falling out of trees, falling into the river Feale when fishing or being poisoned by the things we dug up or picked from the hedgerows to eat. We also had to beware of the bull in Foley’s field along the banks of the river when heading for the ‘Diving Board’, the ‘Rocks’ or the ‘Falls’ to enjoy the swimming. We accepted that if we did something wrong we were punished by a ‘clip around the ear’ from the nearest adult and this was accepted as right and proper by all other parents of the area. You learned never to complain at home because if you did another ‘clip’ was administered immediately by your parents. You thus learned right from wrong. A real Huckleberry Finn existence!
We would ‘attach’ ourselves to adults when they were doing interesting things. In particular I remember Jack Leahy who lived at the corner of the ‘Big Square’. Jack had a horse and cart that he used to collect gravel from the banks of the Feale for local builders. He had to ford the river with the horse and cart to access the bends in the river where the gravel collected. I used jump up next to Jack and go with him on these adventures and he always had a spare shovel on board so that I could give a hand. What fascinated me in the evenings is that he would unhitch the horse from the cart in front of his shop and lead the horse through the front door at the side of the shop, through the hallway, into the stable at the back. I remember Jack as a caring and gentle man. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.
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A Retirement
His long time friend and colleague, John Kelliher, took these great photos of Paul O’Sullivan on the occasion of his retirement as Fire Chief. Paul is pictured with his beautiful trophy and with his colleagues.
Here I am in Ballincollig library with another proud North Kerry woman, Helen Bambury of Ballylongford. Helen and I enjoy a good old natter about North Kerry whenever I am in Ballincollig and we are both in the knitting group.
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Reading A Minute of Your Time
Dave and Mary enjoying a quick peak before dinner.
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That Fresco
Maybe not a woman after all
Nicholas Leonard was convinced it was a woman on Christ’s right hand. This is what he wrote;
That surely is a woman in that fresco- she has no beard, has finer, feminine, facial features (alliteration unintended) has no sandals, has slender arms and small hands, compared to Our Lord and other men. The usual argument for not having women priests is that none was present at the Last Supper and therefore no woman received the power or authority to consecrate the bread and wine, etc. This apparent lady was obviously not a servant as she was at the right hand of Jesus,and was closer to him than men there, even had her hand familiarly on his arm as if a ‘wife,’ or someone very close, usually would have- the men there did not adopt her close attitude and position. Could it be Mary Magdalen; she was close to Our Lord; or could it be His Mother, Mary? She was sort of ‘in charge’ of and advising Him at the wedding Feast of Cana, like a mother would. Maybe she was trying to talk ‘sense’ into Him!!
But Billy McSweeney wrote again with some clarification.
While I was in Sicily I went back to the Taormina Duomo and did a further bit of research, mainly through reputable tour guides. There were not too many people in that “Greek” part of Sicily, on the Eastern coast, that spoke English. I was not aware of the story that unfolded.
I gleaned that nearly all artistic post works based on the Last Supper were interpretations of Leonardo da Vinci’s fantastic fresco in the Convent of Santa Maria della Grazie in Milan. This latter world-famous art was, in reality, a failed experiment, not a genuine ‘fresco’, having been painted on dry plaster by da Vinci in 1495 as opposed to the tried and trusted tradition at the time of painting on wet plaster, This caused it to deteriorate rapidly but because it was so fantastic it has fortunately been copied many times and attempts have also been made to restore the original fresco with varying success.
The story is that the painting depicts da Vinci’s interpretation of the scene of consternation a moment after Christ dropped the bombshell to the Apostles that he would be betrayed by one of them. Da Vinci’s take on the incident is coloured by many lesser efforts by other people in the previous 1400 years and possibly by his own inclinations.
My interest was aroused by the figure sitting at Christ’s right hand-side in the terracotta relief under the altar in the Taormina Duomo. This particular relief was done by Meister Turi Azzolina of Messina in 2014. Like all the others it has striking resemblances to da Vinci’s painting. Apparently the figure on Christ’s right is that of John the Evangelist, the “Beloved Apostle”, who was the youngest Apostle and was recognized as being effeminate in his looks. Dan Brown, the best-selling author of ‘The da Vinci Code’ (2003) picked up on this and dramatized it by suggesting that the figure was, in reality, that of Mary Magdalene. This makes for a good story for the Sicilian guides and although there is some expert justification for showing Mary Magdalene in the painting the general feeling is of ‘one never knows?’. She was widely venerated in her role as the “Apostle to the Apostles” and was the patron of the Dominican Order, for whom The Last Supper was painted. It was from the Dominican Order that Inquisitors were chosen so they would have been influential enough to silence any attempt by the Inquisition to denounce the painting.
It is said that the Dominican Abbott, for whom da Vinci was working, complained that the freco was taking too long to complete. Da Vinci is reputed to have replied that he was having difficulty in getting the face and expression of Judas right but, if the Abbott so wished, he would use the Abbott’s face as the model!! The complaint was immediately withdrawn.
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The Launch
Charlie Nolan recorded the whole thing on October 19 2019 and here is a flavour of a great night for you to enjoy
Chris Grayson took this fellow’s photo as he took a rest from the exertions of The Rut.
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A Listowel Memory of Rationing
The following story about a childhood memory of rationing, the tea chest, and a kindly adult comes to us from Billy McSweeney
The blog today reminded me of the fear of losing the ration book on my way to Mrs Twomey’s shop in the 1940’s. The ration book was kept in a cupboard in the kitchen and was entrusted to one on pain of death, to go to the shops. I still have visions and fear of hunger and starvation attached to that infernal book and the awful responsibility that went with it. I still remember the smile on Mrs Twomey’s face one day when I ordered ½ stone of Tea and ¼ lb Sugar. Only those of your readers who are of that age or have an appreciation of the old weights and measures will realise that those order weights were back to front; hence Mrs. Twomey’s smile. The correct order was dispensed naturally and the debit added to the ‘Order Book’ which accompanied the ration book. My mother paid the ‘Order Book’ on a weekly basis. This was really serious business.
Twomey’s shop was an old-style establishment. The front half was the grocery and the back half was a pub. Today it is the Kingdom Bar, at the top of Church Street. For her part I can still see Mrs Twomey, with Kitty, her assistant, weighing out tea from a tea-chest and sugar from sacks into paper bags which when full were tied with cord, to be ready for sale; tea in ¼ lb bags and sugar in ½ stone paper bags . The empty tea-chest was usually donated to a family with a young child to have the four edges of the top covered with horsehair under a wax cloth for protection; and used as a ‘cot’ to mind a very young child. The cord from the retail bags was saved for future use by the familys. You learned to save everything because it could be of future use. My own earliest childhood memory is being in such a tea-chest at our front door on Upper Church Street and being spoken to very kindly by Joe Galvin, a schoolboy about five years older than myself, on his way to the old National school which was no more than 100 metres further up the street probably at 9.00am. One should be very careful of the way you speak to a young child. It could leave a lifelong memory. Joe stopped and spoke kindly to me, a child of no more than 1½ years old taking the morning air in a tea-chest, whereas all the other scholars just passed me by.
These times are returning according to our young Swedish friend that spoke bravely to the United Nations last week. She is a reminder to all of us of how arrogant and wasteful we have become.
Billy McSweeney
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FCA Guard of Honour
I borrowed this photo from the Moyvane website and I posted it with the caption that was attached, i.e. soldiers on Main Street.
Kay Caball recognised her uncle Micheál O’Connor, father of our own Canon Declan, as the soldier escorting the bishop.
Now maybe someone will remember the year and the occasion. Seems to be a big crowd in town for it anyway.
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An Old Favourite
Do you know that in the library they have lots of free books for you to take away? You can also donate books you have read and no longer need.
In this marvellous box of books that the library have taken out of stock I found this treasure. I remember reading it as a child. I loved The Turfcutter’s Donkey and all his adventures. I lived about 2 miles outside of town but I very often cycled in to the library two and three times a day. The library is surely one of the best public services we have.
In case you have never heard of Patricia Lynch I photographed the flyleaf for you.
These are two of the marvellous Sean Keating illustrations from the book.
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Athea in the News
Bridie Murphy took this super duper photograph of Athea’s very successful fundraising run for the Ronald MacDonald House. David Twomey in the centre of the picture was the winner of the race but the big winner on the day was the Ronald MacDonald House. Well done Athea.
